


A Jasmine Scented Wind

by SilverCrane



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 10:07:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20487146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverCrane/pseuds/SilverCrane
Summary: Race is sixteen when he finds his soulmark, a small paw print in the crook of his elbow.Race is sixteen when Spot Conlon-Larkin transfers to his school.Race is sixteen, and sixteen smells like jasmine.





	A Jasmine Scented Wind

**Author's Note:**

> :D It's literally one in the morning here but whatever! One AM is the best time to get those creative juices flowing! I hope you enjoy! :D

Race is sixteen when he finds his soulmark, a small paw print in the crook of his elbow.

"Dude, your soulmate's a furry." His best friend comments, slinging his arm around Race's neck.

Race immediately pushes him off. "Fuck off, Albert."

Albert holds his hands up defensively. "Dude, I'm just saying the truth!"

"God, I sure hope they're not a furry." Race mumbles, burying his face in his hands. Albert giggles, slinging his arm around Race's shoulders again.

"Look on the bright side, at least that narrows down the range. Aren't that many furries in the area."

Race groans again.

Albert suddenly perks up. "Hey, I heard from Finch that there's gonna be a new kid at school!"

Race looks up at that. "Whaddya mean, school started a month ago!"

Albert shrugs. "Well, that's what I heard from Finch." His eyes dart from side to side, and leans in close to whisper in Race's ear. "Heard he's been kicked out of six schools." 

"Wait, what?"

Albert nods, fueled by Race's confusion. "Yeah, I heard he beat someone up at his old school, and they ended up at the hospital!"

Race scoffs, shrugging Albert's arm off. "Now you're just shitting me." He grabs the handle to his first period class, giving Albert a salute. "See you in dance, nerd."

Albert sticks his tongue out, returning Race's salute. Race pulls open the door, quickly finding his seat near the window. Not to be an anime protagonist or anything, but window seats are pretty rad.

He's pulled out of his thoughts by the teacher, ringing the bell on his desk.

"Good morning students." He greets.

"Morning Mr. Seitz!" The students chorus back. Race yawns, glancing around the room. He meets Finch's eyes across the room, and Finch winks, pointing back to the front of the room. Race turns his attention back to the teacher, and to the short boy standing next to him.

"Students, this is Sean Conlon-Larkin. He'll be joining our class now, and I hope you'll be welcoming." Mr. Seitz turns to Sean. "Maybe you'd like to introduce yourself?"

Sean scowls, crossing his arms. "Yo." He greets. "My name's Spot."

"What, like a dog?" Race asks out loud. The whole class looks at him, and Mr. Seitz sighs.

"Mr. Higgins, if you would please raise your hand before speaking?"

Race rolls his eyes. Mr. Seitz takes that as an answer, turning back to Sean- Spot. "You can go sit down next to Mr. Higgins, since he seems so eager to get to know you."

Race lifts his head as Spot slides into the seat next to him.

"So." He prompts, raising an eyebrow. "You related to Jack Kelly?"

Spot scowls at him. "What's it to you?" He retorts.

Race raises both hands. "Woah! I was just curious. He's my friend, that's all." He eyes Spot curiously. "Y'know, I don't think I've seen you at his house before."

"You got a name?" Spot interrupts, crossing his arms over his chest. Race can't help notice the small ballet shoes on his bicep.

"Antonio Higgins." He introduces, sticking his hand out. "But you can call me Race. That's what my friends call me, anyways."

Spot snorts. "Stupid name."

"Says Mr. Dog." Race shoots back.

"Mr. Higgins! Mr. Conlon-Larkin! Are you with us?" Mr. Seitz calls from the front of the room. Race can see Finch trying to hold back laughter, and he discreetly flips him the bird.

Spot spends the rest of the period ignoring his attempts at conversation, so eventually Race gives up.

It's when he walks into third period Calculus and Spot's sitting in the seat next to his that he realizes just how screwed he is.

"What the fuck do you want?" Spot asks when Race slips into the seat next to him.

"This is my seat!" Race throws up his hands. Spot scoffs, sticking in his ear buds. They ignore each other all through class, which makes it a bit difficult when Mr. Jonathan pairs them up for a project.

"Here." Spot grunts, shoving his phone towards Race. He takes it obediently, plugging his phone number into the contacts. "I'll be in contact." He says, getting up. Race watches him go, a small frown on his face.

At least he wouldn't see him anymore, right?

Wrong.

"Fuck." Race loudly announces, walking into Miss Medda's room for lunch.

"What?" Albert asks, glancing around.

"It's him!" He points, and sure enough, there Spot is, sitting crosslegged on the floor next to Jack.

"The new kid?"

"Yeah. The asshole! I swear to God, if I have one more class with him I'm transferring."

Albert grins. "Do you know what his major is? You might have all your classes with him, it happened to me and Crutchie last year." 

Race groans. "I swear to God..." He repeats.

"You called?" A voice asks, close to Race's ear. An arm slings its self around his shoulder, and Race rolls his eyes.

"Romeo, get off of me."

Romeo obliges. "Well, whatever happened to romance?" He pouts.

"Go ask Specs." Race points out, referring to Romeo's soulmark. He never found it fair that Romeo had gotten his so early, seeing as he was only a freshman.

Romeo sighs wistfully, staring at his palm, where the round pair of glasses resided. "God I wish I could."

"Speaking of soulmarks." Albert interrupts. "Guess who got his today?"

Romeo gasps. "You?!"

"Nah I already got mine, dumbass, it was Race!"

Romeo gasps even louder, throwing his arms around Race. "Race! That's so great! Lemme see!" He grabs Race's arm, searching. Race pulls his arm away, offering Romeo the correct arm.

"A paw print?" Another voice asks, and Race glances up. "What, is your soulmate a furry?" Jack jokes, an easy grin on his face.

Race rolls his eyes. "Shut up, Kelly."

"Kelly-Larkin." He corrects. "Have you met my brother Spot yet?"

Race groans. "Unfortunately."

Jack frowns. "He's not that bad, Racer. It just takes him a while to warm up to people."

"I, for one, think he's absolutely delightful!" Romeo offers, a wide grin on his face.

"'Course you do." Race mumbles, and Romeo drops the subject. He spends the entire lunch period ignoring Spot, praying that his next period would be Spot-free.

His prayers are answered when he walks into dance and the only people he know are Tommy Boy and Albert.

"Yo, Racer!" Albert waves him over. Tommy gives him a small smile, bent backwards in a bridge. "Happy there's one class you don't have Spot in?" Albert teases, as if he knows exactly what's on Race's mind.

Race rolls his eyes, slipping on his ballet shoes. "Shut up, DaSilva."

His final period is AP World, and he crosses his fingers before entering. He doesn't see any sign of Spot, and breathes a sigh of relief, slipping into his seat. His name is on the roster, but he never shows up.

Race's phone buzzes halfway through the period, and he checks it discreetly under his desk.

(505) 555-0104  
Hey

(505) 555-0104  
Is this Race?

Race frowns, glancing around the room. The area number wasn't one he recognized, nor was the phone number itself one he was familiar with.

Race  
Who is this

(505) 555-0104  
Sorry, Spot.

Race tilts his head, quickly adding Spot's number to his contacts.

Race  
Why aren't you at school?

Spot  
Wait how'd you know that

Race  
You're in my AP World class, dumbass

Spot  
Oh great

Race wrinkles his nose, mocking Spot in his brain. 

"Antonio!" His head shoots up at the sound of his name, and he quickly hides his phone.

"Yeah?" He asks, trying to seem casual. Mr. Nunzio groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"I said, what's the answer to question three?"

Race squints at the board. "Uh... Napoleon?" He guesses. Mr. Nunzio is apparently satisfied with that answer, and goes back to writing on the board. 

Race quietly slips his phone out, checking his messages from Spot.

Spot  
Anyways I was thinking we could work on the project after school

Spot  
Hello

Spot  
Higgins

Spot  
Jesus Christ

Race  
Sorry, I'm back

Race  
See, unlike some people, I'm actually in class

Spot  
Well, unlike you, I actually have a life outside of school

Spot  
Just ask Jack if you really wanna know

Race frowns at that cryptic response, switching to Jack's phone number.

Race  
Why isn't your brother at school 

Jack  
Which one

Race  
Kelly I stg

Jack  
Kelly-Larkin, actually

Jack  
And which one I have too many to keep track of

Race  
Spot, you idiot

Jack  
Oooohhhh

Jack  
Does someone have a cruuuush? >:)

Race  
Kelly I stg

Race  
He literally hates my guts 

Jack  
Nah thats just how he is

Jack  
He wasn't feeling too good so he went home early

Race  
Oh okay

Race  
Im stopping by your house after school

Race  
Jonathan assigned us a project, so me and Spot are gonna work on that 

Jack  
Oh ho, a date?

Race  
Jack

Jack  
Race

Race groans, turning his phone off. Stupid Jack and his stupid teasing. His phone buzzes again, but he ignores it, trying to pay attention to Mr. Nunzio.

It seems like forever before the bell rings, and he immediately hops to his feet, grabbing his bags. He's the first one out of the room.

"Hey Racer!" Albert calls, catching up to him in the hallway. "Got any plans for after school?"

Race rolls his eyes. "Yeah, unfortunately. Mr. Jonathan assigned us a project, so me and Spot are gonna work on it."

Albert wrinkles his nose. "Ew, school work." He pats Race on the back. "Want a ride?"

Race grins. "Thanks bro."

Race props his feet up on the dashboard of Albert's car, slinging his arms behind his head.

"Don't forget your seatbelt." Albert reminds, and Race rolls his eyes.

"God, you sound like Davey."

Albert laughs. "Yeah, well I promised Finch I'd start wearing my seatbelt." He says, absentmindedly rubbing the small feather marked on his wrist. He'd been ecstatic when he'd discovered the mark in ninth grade, and even more ecstatic to find Finch had a matching flame etched into his back.

Race rolls his eyes. "Lovebirds." He mumbles, but he fastens his seatbelt anyways. 

"Anyways, Jack's house?" Albert asks, putting the car in reverse.

Race doesn't respond, suddenly overcome with the feeling he was in the wrong place. A strong smell of Vick's Vaporub fills his nose, and his fingers tingle with the feeling.

"Race?"

Albert's voice snaps him out of his daze, and he blinks.

"I think my soulmate has a cold." He reports. Albert gives him a curious look.

"I just smelled Vick's Vaporub." He explains, and Albert's eyes widen.

"Dude, you're already getting soulsenses? That's great! I didn't get mine until..." He counts on his fingers. "Like, a week after I got my mark."

Race wrinkles his nose. "Sure hope they don't always smell like that." He jokes, elbowing Albert. Albert just rolls his eyes.

"Okay, we're here!" He announces, stopping the car. "Now get out."

He freezes again, the faint scent of jasmine filling his nose. "It's happening again." He whispers, hands trembling.

"What? Really?" Albert leans closer, as if he could catch a whiff of what Race was smelling too. "Dude, maybe you should get that checked out."

Race shakes his head. "It's fine. My soulmate just... really likes strong odors I guess." He unbuckles his seatbelt, kicking open the door.

"Hey, man- you're gonna leave footprints all over my car!" Albert complains. Race just sticks his tongue out, giving Albert a salute.

"Seeya!" He calls, jogging up the stairs to Jack's house.

The second he enters the house, he's assaulted by the smell of freshly baked cookies. He can feel his shoulders relaxing. "Miss Medda!" He shouts. His voice comes echoing back to him, but a small head peeks around the corner.

"She's not here." Smalls reports, crossing his skinny arms across his chest. 

Race sighs. "That's too bad. Where's Spot?"

Smalls tilts his head. "In his room, prob'ly." He glances back the way he came. "Want some cookies? Me and Crutchie made a whole bunch."

"Hiya, Race!" Crutchie calls from the kitchen.

"Hey, Crutchie!" Race calls back not even questioning why he was there. Crutchie practically lived in the Larkin household.

"Here!" Crutchie appears, carrying a plate of cookies in one hand, the other gripping his forearm crutch. "Bring these to Spot when you go up."

"Thanks Crutch, Smalls." Race grins, taking the cookies. He climbs the stairs two at a time, glancing around the landing.

There are multiple doors, all distinctly labeled with the owner's name. Race finds Spot's quickly, rapping his knuckles on the door.

"Come in!" Spot calls, and Race opens the door.

He's instantly assaulted by the smell of jasmine, and he nearly drops his plate of cookies.

"Fuck." He voices eloquently.

"Fuck what, Higgins?" Spot asks, reclining on his bed. Race's eyes dart around the room, searching for something.

A telescope, aimed towards the open window. Plastic glow-in-the-dark stars, plastered on the ceiling. A closed container of Vick's Vaporub, sitting next to Spot's head.

"Fuck." He repeats, gently setting the cookies onto a dresser.

Spot sits up. "Race, you're scaring me."

Race's eyes flick to Spot. "Have you had soulsenses yet?" He asks, taking a small step forward.

"Uh- yeah? What about it?" He crosses his arms, looking a bit uncomfortable. The crossed ballet shoes on his bicep glare at Race, and he closes his eyes.

"Fuck. When'd you get that?"

Spot hesitates before answering, uncertainty creeping into his voice. "This morning, why?" He pauses, before continuing. "Race, are you feeling okay? I could call Jack up here if you-"

"No!" Race cuts him off, probably a bit too forcefully. He holds up his arm, gesturing to the paw print in his elbow. "Spot. Like the dog."

Spot's eyes widen. "Wait, you mean-"

Race cuts him off, pointing at Spot's soulmark. "Ballet shoes. My favorite form of dance." He runs a shaky hand through his hair. "On the way here I smelled jasmine and Vick's Vaporub."

"Fuck." Spot says, a weird grin splitting his face. "We're soulmates?"

Hearing Spot say it makes his legs wobble, and he grabs onto the dresser to support himself. "Cookie?" He offers, gesturing to the plate.

Spot bursts out laughing, and Race is surprised at how pleasant the sound is. "You have a nice laugh." He says softly, and Spot immediately stops.

"Uh- thanks." He mutters, cheeks flushing.

"Can I kiss you?" Race blurts, his own cheeks burning.

Spot looks shocked by his sudden outburst, but he nods, shifting his position on the bed. Race moves forward, kneeling on the bed in front of Spot. He leans forward, pressing his lips against Spot's.

Spot's lips are soft and warm and like nothing he's ever experienced before.

And he swears they taste like jasmine.

**Author's Note:**

> :D Thank you for reading! Have a wonderful day!  
My Tumblr is silvercrane14, if you wanna check me out!  
:)


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